Momma Squirts on Christmas

This is a different 'Momma' than my Momma wants a Hard One story, just so you know. This family is from a different place, at a different time, and it's Christmas. This is an entry for the Literotica 2021 Winter Holidays Story Contest, so please don't forget to vote (where it says Please Rate This Story) when you get to the end. Thanks! Happy Holidays, everybody! — riverboy

—

This is the story of half of the Jamborson family. A few years ago the 'upstanding' members of the family got fed up and began having their own Christmas get-together, with happy children, responsible drinking, a table laden with roast turkey, spiral cut ham and all the fixin's. The other half of the family, well, you'll meet them here. Mostly short on schoolin', this bunch of the family is all 'adults', meaning they're all legal aged, though a few of them, including our narrator, are just barely 18...

—

Momma Squirts on Christmas

-——A Redneck Holiday——-

Uncle Jimmie brought a big ol' case of whiskey to Christmas Eve. I guess that should have been my first clue that things was gonna get wild. It seems quite a lot of us Jamborsons like to drink too much, a fresh-cracked-open bottle of Jack being a thing like fresh baked bread or cookies is to some folks. Them first pours out of a fresh whiskey bottle just seem to taste extra good, especially on Christmas Eve.

Momma and me, and my Momma's sister Maisie, and my aunt Maisie's daughter Jewel, we all live in the doublewide my daddy put up on blocks not long before he left. It's a roomy enough place for us four women, but it's not a quiet place, the walls so cheaply made and thin I swear to God I can hear Jewel's thoughts when she's diddlin' her pussy in the room next to mine. It's usually Dierks Bentley that she's diddlin' to; I can hear her softly moan his name right through my wall, but now that I think about it maybe she's saying 'dicks' and dreaming of a gangbang. That could totally be true.

So Uncle Jimmie showed up for Christmas Eve, and some of his boys which are my cousins, and some other less than first cousins were here, and a fancy-pants man from down over the hill. He goes by the name of 'Ace', but he surely isn't one, not in my opinion anyway. But Momma seems to like him — she's been seeing him as of late, for just a month or two now I guess, but that's plenty long enough to know he's all crazy about sex. Sex with Momma, I mean, like gettin' in her pants is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

It doesn't always happen that it snows on Christmas around here, it hardly ever does, but this year, on Christmas Eve, the temperature dropped to really cold and a freezing rain slowly turned to snow. It was almost a misty kind of snow, the tiniest little flakes, but gazzilions of 'em all started to fall and pretty soon everything was covered in the purest white. Even in the dark you could tell how pure and pretty it was. And did I mention it was cold? Oh my gosh, we're just not used to that around here, so Ace and Uncle Jimmie and some of the boys went out and fired up the chain saw and cut up some old pallet wood for the woodstove. The whole bunch of 'em all smelled like oil and exhaust smoke when they came back inside.

"Jesus Christ, it smells like a goddamned garage in here!" said my fun Aunt Maisie. "Take your goddammed shirts off an hang 'em outside."

"In the snow? " said one of the cousins.

"Wherever you goddamn want to, but you ain't keepin' 'em in our nice-smellin' house," said Aunt Maisie. She's always proud of the way our house smells, her trips to the grocery store always bringing home air fresheners that you plug into the wall, and potpourri that she puts out in pretty little bowls.

I watched her eyes as she watched Ace and Uncle Jimmie and the cousin boys all taking off their shirts, stripping themselves down to bare-chested. One of the cousins shook his head, wondering what all this fussin' was about. "These don't stink any more than the rest of our clothes," he said, and I saw Aunt Maisie's eyes glimmer a little, a fun little smile barely there on her face. "Don't give me no ideas," she said. "This ain't a free-for-all like them Dawsons get all up into. This is a respectful remembrance of our Lord Jesus, and how he rose up and whatnot."

"Maisie, that's Easter, I'm pretty sure," said my momma. "Christmas has got some Jesus stuff, but it's supposed to be about families givin' presents and such. And drinkin'. Ace, baby, pour Momma a big glass."

Ace did that, filling an assortment of tall glasses party full while Uncle Jimmie and one of the cousins stuffed the old woodstove with pallet wood and lit it up. Some old dry twigs under it got it burning fast, the fire sounding like a roaring Hell when they shut the doors and turned the dials on the front to make it heat up nice and quick. The old oil heater down the hall was doing a halfway good enough job, but soon that woodstove in the living room was nearly glowing red, and Christmas Eve felt like a hot July day.

Frozen pizza was coming out of the cookstove in the kitchen as fast as we could cook 'em, and some gooey dip all fat with grease tasted sorta like chicken wings. There was Christmas cookies too, lots of 'em, and a big ol' pot of coffee, but pretty much everyone was drinkin' whiskey with their food. And then they was just drinkin', the kitchen left to be a right mess.

One of the girl cousins, who I hardly ever see, she got so hot there by the heat of the woodstove she unbuttoned her shirt, all the way down, the bra she had on showing sorta pretty, like a nice bikini top would. I know what she was thinking—why do the boy cousins who just happen to stink like chainsaw get to be more comfortable than us girls do? It made some good sense to me, so I unbuttoned my shirt too, and made myself even more comfortable by taking it right off.

It was a cousin boy I like who came over and sat by me just then, bringing a half-full bottle with him and pouring quite a bit in my glass. He didn't see me seein' it, but I saw him seein' my tits, the bra I was wearing not a small one but kind of pretty and my tits being large-sized like my Momma's and as firm and nice as most any of the popular big-titted porn girls. He's one of the less-than-first cousins who wasn't out doing the chainsawing, so he still had his shirt on, a red flannel one that looked sort of Christmasy.

"Aren't you hot? Uncle Jimmie's got it about a hundred in here," I said to him. "Take that shirt off...if you want to."

The nice cousin boy smiled at me, the way I like boys to sometimes do. I had two glasses of hooch in me already and yeah, his eyes and smile made me happy.

After he took his shirt off and was bare-chested, he and I talked for a while, sort of softly, the noise of the others just fading into a nice background. The next I looked, my Momma was wearin' just her undies, a bra and panties, and they was Christmasy ones, real lingerie that was bright red, with some satiny green ribbon trim woven delicately into the pretty lace.

"Momma," I said sorta loud. "Showin' everybody how sexy you still are?"

"Damn right," Momma said, smiling. "Maybe some of these hillbillies ain't never seen a real woman."

"Tits like those don't come along every day," said Ace, beaming with pride that they was temporarily his. Momma laughed so hearty and pure, her big ol' tits jiggling like they say Santa Claus's belly sometimes does.

"You got nice tits just like your momma's," the nice cousin sitting next to me said, his fun little smile almost sorta bashful.

"Yeah? You like 'em?" I thrust them out to make them bigger. "Mine, or hers?"

"Can't I like 'em both?" he said.

"Momma," I said loud. "We got us an admirer. This here not-a-first cousin of mine thinks our tits are special."

"They are special," said Uncle Jimmie. "Damn special and fine."

"Uncle Jimmie, you like mine, too?" asked Jewel, she wearing just a bra with her bluejeans now, like some of the rest of us girls.

"Big ol' titties run in the family, girl. How am I supposed to not like any of 'em?"

Aunt Maisie shook her head, her face all red from too much whiskey and too much heat. "Jimmie, you old fool, no brother of mine supposed to be eyeing my daughter that way. Keep them eyes back in your head."

"Ain't you hot, Maisie?" said Jimmie to her. "You got a face red as the coals in that stove. I mean, that dress is right pretty, but...make yourself comfortable, woman. Everybody else seems to be."

Aunt Maisie looked around and saw that it was true. She was the last of the women fully dressed, and the menfolk was all bare-chested. The heat in the crowded living room was truly like that July day I mentioned, even with a window partly open to draw out the weed smoke that some of my cousins was blowin'.

"Well for Christ's sake," Aunt Maisie said, standing up, sort of woozy from the hooch. "This is the goddamndest thing I ever heard of. I'm am warm, but I'm sure enough not stripping off right here in front of y'all. I didn't wear all that pretty stuff underneath like my sister done. Now I gotta go to my room and find some, and...this is just the goddamndest thing I ever heard of," she muttered, heading down the hallway toward her room.

Momma had the radio on when everybody had first arrived, but now it was turned up some, and when a certain song came on, Luke Bryan singing Country Girl Shake it for Me, one of my girl cousins turned it up louder and began to dance to it.

This was all good and fun, sort of letting everyone's fresh whisky drunk go free, some of the bare-chested cousin boys whoopin' as they began dancing with the girls. I was up and dancing with my not-a-first cousin when I noticed Aunt Maisie had returned. I kinda wish I'd seen her walk down the hall and make her entrance because she looked different than I've ever seen her. I'm guessing she was maybe thinking about one-upping my momma when she'd put on a sexy jet-black bra and panties in her room, set off in a lively way with red high heels and a red necklace that looked like a string of atomic fireball candies. "This is the goddamndest party," she muttered, then she started dancin' with Ace.

The man DJ-ing on the radio must have been in a fun mood, him keepin' the music upbeat for a good long while, and a whole bunch of us danced and danced as bottle after bottle of that case of whiskey went empty. I was gettin' closer and closer to drunk, feelin' more happy than I'd ever felt on Christmas Eve with the family before.

My not-a-first cousin stuck with me, but I danced with some others, too. It was him, though, who reached for my pants in a fun way and gave me the urge to take 'em off. I saw Uncle Jimmie stuffing the woodstove with pallet wood again, his face red and his brow all sweaty when he was done. Smoke had billowed in, the old tin chimney probably full of whatever that black stuff is. I'm sure Momma's never cleaned it since Daddy left. The fun dance in the living room now smelled of woodsmoke, and the air was thick with it, like a smoke machine at a real dance club.

Dancing drunk, in just my panties and bra, was super fun. It was a fast song—Honky Tonk Badonkadonk sung by Trace Adkins—that got my tits bouncing, the eyes of some of the boys and men makin' me feel all tingly with goosepimples.

I myself have never really thought about being a stripper, but I have a friend who is one. She still lives at home, on a farm that stretches out at the bottom of the valley, waking up early in the morning to take care of the cows and then driving a long way to a roadhouse called The Red Daisy to do her stripper shows at night. I think she takes naps in the afternoon, otherwise she'd be exhausted, especially in the wintertime when farm work is so cold.

But yeah, I thought of her when I was dancing in my bra and panties, kinda sorta wishing I could flash my titties and tease the boys, then I saw Uncle Jimmie watching me and I wished it even more. As I danced he poured some whiskey into the glass I was holding, and I gulped too much of it down and felt the fun of the burn in my throat. Christmas this year was a fucking blast.

The dancing sorta calmed down some, but only because there were some presents to be opened and Momma got impatient for them. This was her first Christmas with Ace as her boyfriend and she wanted to give him hers and get hers from him. She was happy drunk, more than usual, so it was probably a good thing to do this before she ended up passed out on her bed or whatever.

Momma gave Ace his present first, a shiny new pair of shit-kicker boots that looked like they was still the back of a live alligator just yesterday. Real nice, everyone thought, so Ace pulled them on and let out a whoop. He stood an inch taller, I think, which he probably liked.

He had two presents for Momma, but he said she could only open one of 'em. That didn't go over well, Momma being all presents-crazy and all, so she went over to our little Christmas tree, clickin' her way there in her best high heels, and she bent over with her red-pantied ass showin' to everybody and she ripped open the 'not now' present and she shrieked with a fun, liquered-up kind of delight. "Sex toys!" she said, holding up two of them for all to see. Smiling as bright as the morning sun on a mountaintop, she showed us all a pair of fur-lined handcuffs and a vibrator of some sort that appeared as high-tech as any I've ever seen.

"Jesus, Momma," I said, peering at the other things in the box. "That dildo's bigger than a freak show! You gonna use that thing?"

"You keep your hands off that, young lady," she said. "These things are not for sharing." She looked into the box again, and reached in for it, her hand not able to grip fully around the girth of the massive rubber cock. "Christ our Lord, this is big, isn't it. Ace, Honey, you think...a woman can take this?"

"I'm hopin' to see it. Them toys ain't just for you to use in private you know. Oh no, these here are for us to play with together."

My momma's eyes twinkled at Ace like all the stars in the sky. "Jesus Mary and Joseph," she said. "Now I want to send everybody home 'cept you."

"Fuck that noise," said Uncle Jimmie. "This here's Christmas Eve and we ain't leavin'. You wanna play, go ahead and play. Don't mind us. As long as there's bottles with hooch left in 'em, Christmas Eve ain't over."

Momma was so worked up happy like, she plum forgot all about opening her second, 'normal' present. That surprised me, but yeah, the rubber cock in her hand was fucking huge and I think her brain was fogged by it a little bit. She held tight to it as her other hand rummaged in the box, finding an anal plug, some nipple pinchers, and a smaller, less high-tech vibrator that one of the cousin girls recognized as a "really good one."

"You know about them?" asked one of the boys.

"Fuck yeah," she said, her drunk face all pink with embarrassment. "No guy can make me cum like that thing does."

"You're hangin' out with the wrong guys," he said.

"Yeah, no," she said. "Guy's don't know shit about makin' girls cum."

Except for the radio music the room was sort of quiet, the sex toys on display and the talk about them all sorta grabbing everyone's attention.

"Maybe young guys are like that," Ace said to her. "I didn't know shit till I got older."

"Nope," said the cousin girl. "I been with older guys, too. Clueless as fuck."

"Yeah, that ain't right," said Ace. "You must be attracted to dumb ones. Tell her, Babe."

Momma, expected to praise Ace's sexmanship, unexpectedly told the truth instead. It must have been all the whiskey in her. "Ace, honey...you try, I'll give you that. You stay hard like a fencepost, but...you only get me off partway. The big ones happen...when I'm alone."

I could see that the boy cousins wanted to make fun of Ace, but with respect for elders and all, they let him be. The silence, though, was maybe worse.

"I love it though, being with you," said Momma, letting the truth leak out of her like whiskey again. "You fuck me so good, and you eat me like the Lord's own last supper."

"Fuuuuck," said Aunt Maisie, the word hissing out of her like a sigh. A sad sort of envy showed on her face. "I knew I've heard that. The walls, they're so thin."

"Jesus," said Uncle Jimmie, his eyes shining with drunken bliss. "My two sisters, listening to each other fuck. The things you learn on Christmas Eve."

"Sounds like only one's listening," said Ace, his cocksure smirking gaze locked on Aunt Maisie in her black lingerie. "When's the last time you were fucked, sweetheart? With your whole self lookin' like that, I'm guessin' it wasn't long ago."

"What makes that your business?" she asked, smirking, holding on to his eyes with hers when his rose up from her big tits. "Huh, Ace? Do you think you know me, cause you've made me cum, all the way from the next room, more than once?"

It appeared that drunken honesty was leaking out from everyone just about now. Ace certainly liked it, his happy eyes still on Aunt Maisie, the fencepost that Momma so enjoys showing as a nice-sized lump in his good Christmas jeans.

I heard the splash of pouring and Uncle Jimmie was there, filling up my glass and then filling others. "Jesus, Ace," he said. "Maybe you're not bad after all, makin' a woman cum from the next room."

"Yeah, well I'd rather be in the same bedroom with him," Momma said, "and I'm the one that is. Maisie, if you're so hot to trot you've got a passel of horny men in this room right this very minute. Get your eyes off my man before I slap you."

"Yeah, but...they're nephews and cousins!" said Aunt Maisie. "What are we, the Dawsons now?"

This second mention of the Dawsons brought to mind my knowledge of them. Living down the road from them, and then down another road, the rumors fly all around these parts about their way of living. I myself don't think it's anybody's business but their own, but folks all around here love to talk about how they're all givin' each other blowjobs and fuckin' each other and whatnot. The thing is, I don't even think they're related. My guess is that their farm is some kind of a commune, the older man and woman giving their name to the place. Sure as heck there ain't no kids under age, so that's not a problem, and sure as heck if they all get to fuckin' once in a while, maybe even out in the open where they can be seen, it's none of my business.

"You got some kind of fixation on them, Maisie," Uncle Jimmie said. "How come I'm just figuring out my two sisters are hornier than field rabbits?"

"Cause you're dumb as a rock," Aunt Maisie said. I watched as she let her drunk eyes drift lower on her brother's powerful looking bare-chested body. "Where'd you get them muscles anyway? For God's sake, Jimmie, you been workin' out? Tryin' to impress the younger girls?"

"Just workin', woman," Uncle Jimmie said. "Roads and bridges don't build themselves."

"I noticed you didn't fill up my glass," she said. "Playin' favorites? You're probably dreaming you'll get somethin' out of it."

Uncle Jimmie reached toward her with the bottle, filling her glass. "You're an ornery drunk, you know that?" he said. "Damn good thing you got that body or..."

"Or what!" said my sweet aunt, her hackles all riled up in a fun way that made her eyes twinkle.

"Nice tits is helpful, that's all I'm sayin'," said her brother Jimmie.

I watched Aunt Maisie's face turn noticeable pink. "Oh, so now you like my tits? Christ, Jimmie, you could have told me that years ago, when it mattered."

"It always matters. It matters right now. You got sweet tits, a sweet body, what can I say. That's not a bad thing, is it?"

"No," said Aunt Maisie, her eyes still twinkling as her look softened. "It's not a bad thing at all. Your...muscles look nice. Christ the Lord, I think maybe you look better than you ever have."